


cross my heart

by thisissirius



Category: Soulbound Series - Hailey Turner
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21838855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: Setsuna, Persephone, Ashanti. None of them had truly loved him beyond knowing what he could give them.Until Jono.or four times Patrick can't sayi love you, and one time he realizes he never needed to.
Relationships: Patrick Collins/Jonothon de Vere, Sage Beacot/Marek Taylor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	cross my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [finkpishnets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/gifts).



> okay so i tried to put a little of everything you said you loved into this fic. 
> 
> getting into patrick's head was the hardest thing, i think, but i hope i did him justice, giftee, and that this is the yuletide you wanted :)

“You ever been to a wedding?” Jono asked. 

“Nope.” Patrick scowled down at the bow tie Marek had decided would be part of the outfit. He was used to wearing practical, somewhat comfortable clothing; the bowtie and suit were not that. The bowtie wouldn’t even sit straight.

“Come here,” Jono said, sounding amused, and wasn’t fazed by the glare Patrick turned on him. Jono stepped closer, though Patrick stayed stubbornly still, but his smile didn’t fall from his face. Patrick stared up at him, watching concentration shift to heat when he gave Patrick the once over. 

“Do I pass inspection?”

Jono’s growl was low in his throat. “If we didn’t have a wedding to attend.”

Patrick grinned, wrapping his arms around Jono’s neck and feeling the press of Jono’s fingers into his hips. “You’d do  _ what _ ?”

“Bit indecent to talk about it when we have to be in public soon,” Jono pointed out. 

“Like you care about that,” Patrick said, pushing up to press a kiss to Jono’s lips. “Tell me.”

“All right,” Jono allowed. He dipped his head, mouth gliding over Patrick’s, his lips ghosting across his cheek, until his breath was hot on Patrick’s ear. “I’d undo your shirt,” he said, finger of one hand drifting feather-light over the buttons of Patrick’s dress shirt. Patrick shivered, gritting his teeth against the moan that wanted to escape, not that it would matter. Jono could smell his arousal.

“Get your pants undone,” Jono continued, thumb slipping behind the waistband of Patrick’s pants. “Take you in hand-”

“I get it,” Patrick breathed. 

“Thought you wanted me to tell you.” There was an edge of amusement to Jono’s voice and Patrick huffed a laugh, dropping his forehead to Jono’s shoulder. 

“Fuck, I need to pretend I don’t have a hard-on in front of an entire wedding congregation.”

Jono’s laugh was light against Patrick’s ear. Patrick’s grip tightened on Jono and he could feel the words bubble up in his throat as he pulled back, meeting Jono’s eyes slowly. Something in his expression had Jono brushing a thumb over Patrick’s neck. “What is it?”

“Jono,” Patrick started. It wasn’t that fucking hard.  _ I. Love. You. _

“I love you,” Jono said, almost as if he could read Patrick’s mind.  _ Not that kind of soul bond,  _ Patrick reminded himself. Also, no. 

“Say it again,” Patrick said, hoping this wouldn’t be a recurring thing when Jono told him how he felt.

Jono’s face shifted into that smile that was fast becoming Patrick’s biggest weakness. As if Patrick needed another one. “I love you.”

Patrick dragged Jono in for another kiss, feeling the warmth flood his body. There was no way he could explain what three simple words could make him feel. Patrick had been loved in his life; he remembered his mother, his sister, the way they’d been as a family. That was the last time he’d really felt it. Setsuna, Persephone, Ashanti. None of them had truly loved him beyond knowing what he could give them. 

Until Jono.

It should be easy to say that to Jono’s face, but as soon as he opened his mouth, there was a thump against the door. 

“Stop making out!” Wade yelled. “Sage says you better come out or she’s sending Marek in there.”

“Gods no,” Patrick said immediately, and pulled away from Jono with a laugh. “If there’s someone I don’t need a hard-on in front of it’s Marek.”

Jono was laughing, refusing to release Patrick’s hand as they headed for the door. Patrick didn’t mind all that much, stopping Jono just before the door. 

“I wanted to say,” Patrick started.

“It’s all right,” Jono said, pressing another kiss to Patrick’s mouth. “It’ll happen when it’s meant to.”

“I want to say it now.” Stubborn to the last, and Patrick wasn’t likely to change. 

Thankfully, Jono liked him that way. “Patience, Patrick. I know you can  _ do _ patience.”

The heat in Jono’s gaze was self-explanatory and Patrick flushed, willing his dick to stop paying attention to Jono. More of a losing battle than the one he was currently waging against the Gods. “Fine.”

Jono’s smile was soft and certain. “I don’t have to hear it to know.”

Patrick knew who to thank for having Jono in his life, but he didn’t particularly want to. Instead, he’d dig his heels in and never let go. 

  
  
  


The occasion was serious, but Patrick couldn’t help but appreciate Jono. 

Half naked in the middle of the arena, Jono’s shirt was torn and bloody, his eyes bright. While fighting wasn’t Patrick’s preferred location to see Jono, he wasn’t gonna pretend he didn’t love seeing him in the middle of a fight, though usually he didn’t have time to enjoy it. Especially not with their lives currently being one long fight - and didn’t he wish they could change that. 

“How does this work?” Patrick said, pitching his voice low, but knowing Sage would hear him anyway. God pack challenges were a well-guarded secret and for all that Patrick knew most of the inner workings of pack lore and law, challenges were still an unknown. Jono had never explained the process, not that Patrick had asked. It had taken long enough to convince Jono werecreatures would actually follow him if he wanted them to, let alone convince him now was the time to challenge Estelle and Youssef outright. 

“Fight to the death,” Sage said. “Figured you’d know that much.”

“Then everyone just kneels to Jono?”

“Most of them already have,” Wade said from Patrick’s other side, refusing to lower his voice. Patrick snorted as Jono’s body twitched in a way Patrick knew meant amusement. 

Wade wasn’t wrong; after Marisol, Letitia and Marco, more packs had come to Jono, a slow trickle that turned into a constant flow after the wedding. Jono and Patrick had dug their heels in, taking every threat as it came, and now Youssef and Estelle had threatened Jono publically and he’d issued the challenge both Patrick and Sage had told him more than once he could easily make. 

“It’s about timing,” Jono had said. They’d been in bed, Patrick resting his chin on Jono’s chest. “I wanted them to suffer.”

“Have they?” Patrick had asked, already knowing the answer. 

“I know everyone deserves better,” Jono started, and Patrick had cut him off, kissing the words away. He knew about patience. 

“You’ll do it when it’s time,” Patrick said, working his way down Jono’s body. 

Patrick shivered, ignoring Sage’s knowing smile, and expertly dodging the elbow Wade sent his way. 

“It’s starting,” he hissed. 

“It started a while ago,” Patrick pointed out, but knew what Wade meant. 

Of the two god pack alphas, Estelle had always been the most powerful. Jono was standing over Youssef, mouth a grim line, and Estelle was crouched in front of him, eyes blazing with fury. Murder was condoned in the challenge ring, and though she was no doubt reeling from Youssef’s death, there was nothing she could do beyond continue the challenge. It left a funny feeling in the pit of Patrick’s stomach, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry about it. Youssef and Estelle hadn’t helped the people they were sworn to protect, and Patrick wanted to be there for Jono.

Estelle tilted her chin, eyes defiant. “Shift.”

“You don’t give the orders here, love,” Jono said, more grow than voice. Fenrir, Patrick supposed, clenching his hands into fists. Despite knowing how much Fenrir’s presence was, in part, protecting Jono, he didn’t like how easily Fenrir could take control. 

Power slipping between her fingers, Estelle could usually count on one thing; Patrick had no doubt that in wolf form, she was more formidable than almost every other werecreature in New York. 

“All right,” Jono said with a shrug, and even before the words were out of his mouth, Estelle was already shifting. 

“Fuck,” Wade said. 

Patrick’s teeth were clenched so tightly he was probably going to give himself a headache. He didn’t like it, never did when Jono was in the middle of a fight he couldn’t help with. “I could just-”

“No,” Sage said immediately. “You know what Jono said.”

Patrick didn’t care what Jono said. 

Except for how he did. 

“Don’t interfere.” Jono had kissed Patrick hard, fingers curled around the back of his neck. “Whatever happens, you understand?”

Patrick had promised because he’d had to. 

Estelle was just as beautiful in wolf form as she was human, and while she was large, larger than most werecreatures Patrick had seen, she was easily dwarved by Jono.One of his paws could take her out, but Estelle was nasty with her swipes and blows. For someone that didn’t like to do the dirty work, Estelle was skilled at fighting in such a way. 

Sage hissed in a breath as Estelle’s claws snagged in Jono’s muzzle, both of them snarling. Harsh pants were the only sound beyond the skin-on-skin contact of the fight. Patrick’s magic burned, the soulbond singing with potential. Estelle wouldn’t even know what hit her. 

“Stop,” Sage said, eyeing him. 

“I’m not doing anything,” Patrick replied. It was mostly to cover his surprise at being read so effectively. Not that he should have been; Sage was Patrick’s dire and knew more about him than he’d ever been comfortable sharing with other people who weren’t Jono. 

Jono growled, and when Patrick looked back at the fight, Estelle was beneath Jono’s paws, blood matting his fur, and a wound the size of Patrick’s head in Estelle’s chest. A low rumble started in his throat and then Jono was howling, the sound making Patrick wince despite himself. “ _ Change _ .”

Almost as one, every werecreature in the arena started to shift, even Wade, and there really wasn’t room in here for a  _ dragon _ . Wade immediately hopped over the edge of the arena, down into the sound to give himself - and everyone around him - more space. 

Across the arena, Jono met Patrick’s gaze. They were now, officially, the New York god pack. Patrick swallowed. 

_ I love you _ , he wanted to scream across the arena.

Instead, he waited for Jono to come to him, to press his bloody muzzle to Patrick’s chest. Patrick leaned down, closing his eyes, and resting his forehead against Jono’s. It was awkward, given how large Jono’s head was, but he managed, nose wrinkling against the stench of blood. Anger curled low in his stomach at the thought of Estelle and Youssef wounding Jono, but it was easily shoved down in favor of looking his partner in the eye. 

The grind of Jono’s bones was something Patrick would never get used to. Jono stared at him, something apprehensive in his gaze. Patrick gripped his neck, touched their foreheads together this time. 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Patrick breathed. “Nothing’s changed.”

“Everything’s changed,” Jono protested, but he wrapped his arms around Patrick’s back. 

“You were always the god pack alpha of New York,” Patrick said. Jono’s face shifted from surprise into amusement. “What?”

“You do know how to say I love you,” Jono told him, laughing as he dodged the fist Patrick aimed at his shoulder. 

Patrick looked over Jono’s shoulder at the werecreatures gathered on the sand. “You have more pack to welcome.”

  
  
  


Patrick didn’t know what woke him. 

Jaw cracking on a yawn, he stretched, feeling the sheets slide down his body. He smirked, thinking of the way he and Jono had spent last night. He tipped his head, frowning at the empty spot. He brushed his hand over it, surprised that it was cold. Shuffling to the edge of the bed, he frowned, scrubbing at his hair. He could do with a shower, but wanted to know where Jono had got to. The night before he was sure they’d decided to have the morning in bed and he was a little pissed that Jono was missing. 

The door was open and a crack, and as Patrick wrapped a hand around it, he could hear the low murmur of voices from the living room. Voices, plural. Patrick was pretty sure they weren’t expecting visitors, and Wade was staying with Sage and Marek for the night to give Patrick and Jono privacy. Which left nobody. 

Except for that familiar smell that permeated Patrick’s senses and he cursed inwardly. Fucking gods. 

“-not today. I don’t give a shit about your errands.”

There was a pointed silence, and Patrick eased the door open a fraction to peer through the gap. 

“I need to talk to Pattycakes.”

Fucking Hermes. 

“Tough,” Jono said, and Patrick’s heard that hard tone only a couple of times. It never fails to send a shiver down Patrick’s spine and as confident as he was in his ability to protect himself, he couldn’t deny the thought that someone else wanting to protect him was something he had been missing. “You’re not getting through that door.”

“I could,” Hermes said almost conversationally. 

“No,” Jono snapped, and there was the hint of growl in his voice when he said, “ _ You really couldn’t _ .”

Patrick appreciated the look of surprise on Hermes’ face. He was sure Hermes could actually try, but he wasn’t sure how protective  _ Fenrir  _ was of Patrick. He opened the door fully, leaning against the doorjamb. He wasn’t above watching Hermes crash and burn. 

Hermes’ eyes flicked to Patrick, and something in his expression shifted. “You wouldn’t wanna start something you couldn’t finish, Fenrir.”

“ _ Who says I can’t finish it?”  _

Patrick couldn’t see Jono’s face, but he had to assume whatever it was edged close to dangerous with the uncertainty that appeared on Hermes’ face. 

“Fine,” Hermes said after a long pause, and his carefree smile was back, sending Patrick a bright smile that made Patrick roll his eyes. Fucking gods. “I’ll speak to Patrick later.”

Jono stopped Hermes with a hand on his arm. The grip was tight, Patrick didn’t need to feel it to know, and when he spoke, Jono’s voice was completely human. “Drag him into anymore of your god games, and I’ll let Fenrir at the lot of you.”

“As if that would work,” Hermes said, his smile a touch more genuine. “You can’t control him.”

“Patrick’s  _ pack _ ,” Jono said, throwing the right amount of emphasis on the word. “If you continue to treat him like a performing monkey, I’m not gonna allow it, mate. I’m not afraid of you or your lot, not when Patrick’s at stake.”

Hermes and Jono were locked in a staring contest and while part of Patrick was annoyed at the posturing over  _ him _ when thanks, but he didn’t need it, his throat was dry at the implication of Jono’s protection. 

“He’s gonna do what his soul debt entails because he’s a good guy, but anything else is out of the question. Understand?”

Hermes stepped back, a touch in front of Jono so that Patrick couldn’t see his expression. Whatever passed between them was silent, and in a blink, Hermes was gone. The line of Jono’s back eased and Patrick didn’t realise he’d been so rigid. 

“Wow,” Patrick said, lips quirking up into a smirk. “I didn’t know you had a protective streak.”

“Yes you did,” Jono replied, sounding amused and tired in equal measure. 

At Patrick’s approach, he turned, letting Patrick rest his hands on Jono’s waist. In return, he placed a hand on Patrick’s cheek and kissed him hard. 

“Sorry about that.”

“No you’re not.” Patrick pressed their foreheads together. It was something he couldn’t help but do when around Jono, always wanting to touch him or be close to him. Quietly, he says, “It’s all right.”

It is, he realised, and squeezed Jono’s waist hard. He pulled back, staring at him silently. 

“What?”

“I just,” Patrick started, and it would be so easy for the words to full between them, but they don’t, his throat tightening up. 

Jono kissed the frustration away, brushing the palm of his hand over Patrick’s neck, and Patrick allowed the scent marking, watching the subtle shifts to Jono’s expression. “When it’s time.”

Patrick wanted it now. 

  
  
  
  


Between one breath and the next, Jono stepped between Patrick and Hannah. 

“No,” Patrick said, throat thick with emotion. His magic faltered, mage globes bobbing in the air around him. 

The magic currently winding its way towards Patrick hit Jono instead, a flash of light so bright Patrick jerked his head away. Blinking against the harshness, his fingers flexed as he stared at the line of Jono’s back. For one fleeting moment, he thought Jono had survived. The smell of acrid smoke and singed fur filled his nose. Legs buckling, Jono hit the ground hard, the thump loud in the ensuing silence, despite the battle raging around them. 

“Jono,” Patrick managed, strangled, and took an aborted step forward. 

Something about the way Hannah was staring at him, the insanity in her eyes not clearing at all. 

It would hurt, but  _ Jono _ needed him and he wasn’t dead because Patrick could still channel his magic and - 

“Hannah.” His eyes were stinging with unshed tears. He couldn’t hesitate, not again, and throwing up the shields Nadine had painstakingly taught him to perfect, he protected himself against the rush of magic Hannah threw his way. Ashanti’s dagger was tight in his hand and he wasn’t sure he could actually do it, but he had to, for Jono and for his pack. Sage. Wade. Marek, Emma, and the packs of New York. They were all Patrick’s responsibility and he couldn’t do it anymore, not against Ethan. 

Hannah’s face was twisted in fury, but Patrick ignored it, couldn’t let himself think of her as his sister. She was Macaria, a godhead Ethan was using to terrorize people Patrick cared about,  _ loved.  _

Despite the magic rushing over him, Patrick latched on to the leyline, knowing he was using Jono but not hating it as much as he usually did. It meant Jono was still alive. It was all he could focus on. Hannah’s magic was hard, dangerous, and Patrick had never felt anything like it under her fury. Before she could finalize the attack, Patrick approached, putting on a final burst of speed, and plunged the dagger into Hannah’s chest. 

The backlash from the attack threw Patrick back and he hit the ground, feeling the breath punch from his chest. He couldn’t breathe for a moment, and the pain was overwhelming. He couldn’t see what was happening with Hannah and he needed to know, had to make sure the dagger had done its job. 

Slowly, he forced himself onto his hands and knees and was startled to see Hannah standing there. Not Macaria, but  _ Hannah _ . She was smiling at him, glowing, and he didn’t know what to say. 

“Patrick.”

Patrick was still finding it difficult to breathe. “Han-”

“It’s okay, Patrick,” Hannah said, kneeling down in front of him and touching his face. It was light, a brush more than an actual touch, and he had never felt whatever it was crushing his chest. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ssh,” Hannah said, brushing her fingers over his cheek. 

“Patrick.” The voice sounded like Persephone except not. Patrick focused on the figure standing over Hannah’s shoulder. 

“Macaria.”

She was beautiful, like Persephone, but her eyes were like long corridors of darkness. He could get lost in her eyes and he desperately wanted to for a moment - and then she shut them, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Your soul debt is paid.”

“Persephone,” Patrick started. 

“Your soul debt is paid,” Macaria said again. 

Patrick felt numb, he wanted to crawl over to Jono, to make sure he was still alive, but he could barely keep himself awake. “Jono.”

“Will live.” It sounded like a promise. “I will ensure it.”

Relief flooded Patrick and he shuddered, dropping his head. “I,”  _ love him _ . 

“I know,” Macaria said, before he could get the words out.

If he couldn’t even say it now.

“He knows.”

“Shut up,” Patrick mumbled, and with another touch of Macaria’s hand to his forehead, he crashed down into darkness. 

  
  
  
  


“I don’t know what this even is,” Wade said, actually turning his nose up at food.

It was something Patrick had actually taken the time to cook instead of relying on takeout and to be fair, it was pretty inedible. 

“It’s…. Interesting,” Sage said diplomatically, picking at it gently. 

“It’s gross,” Marek said, giving Patrick a bright smile. 

“It kind of is,” Jono said.

“Whatever,” Patrick mumbled. He was clearly never going back into the kitchen.

Sage and Marek laughed as Wade took another mouthful which, what the fuck, and then promptly spat it back onto the plate. Patrick rolled his eyes, and Jono’s grip tightened on his waist. Jono had his mouth pressed to the back of Patrick’s neck, apparently trying to kiss him, but unable to get it through his laughter. 

“Shut up,” Patrick said, turning to glare, only to see the bright smile on his face. He was scarred, evidence of their fight that would probably continue with Ethan escaping justice again, now without the power Macaria afforded him, but he was struck by how hopeful his future seemed. With his pack, with Jono. 

“I love you,” Patrick said. 

Jono’s eyes widened, then softened into something unexplainable. Patrick wanted to hold him tight and never let him go. Part of him realized that he  _ could _ and he dug his fingers into Jono’s shoulders, buried his face in Jono’s neck. Jono’s hand cupped the back of his head, stroking gently through his hair. “I love you too, Patrick.”

Patrick’s hands were shaking, but he ignored them. It had never occurred to him that he could say it to someone and mean it, but Jono had been right in the arena, after his successful challenge against Youssef and Estelle. 

The time was right.

Marek, Sage, and Wade were jeering, pretending to throw up, and while Patrick flipped them the bird over his shoulder, he couldn’t keep the grin from his face as Jono whispered, “I love you, Patrick,” against his skin. 


End file.
